Two Old Women

Several years ago, my dearest BFF loaned me this book:

She had read it, and in the two old women saw the two of us, compadres to the end. We easily identified ourselves in the story, and the similarities to our real life friendship. With only each other, we could conquer everything- the elements; family who abandoned us; wolves, even.

Recently, I re-read the book again, and found a completely different story. Oh, I still believe that with the help of my precious friend I can conquer many things. But the story of the two old women, abandoned by their tribe when resources became scarce, resonated greatly with a different tune now.

As we age, we begin to receive special considerations and respect for our age. When the young ones do things for us-cook, clean, run errands, bring gifts- we feel loved, cherished, and honored as senior members of the tribe.

But as the old women found out, too much of letting others 'honor' them led to forgetting many subsistence and self-sufficiency skills, which had to be painfully dredged from memory to survive when they were left on their own.

As the women struggled to find food and shelter, they became more and more resilient, more aware, more capable, more confident, and less frail, weak, or old-feeling.

This made me realize that I can not let age or 'this stage of life' rob me of my independence, my abilities, my energy, or my drive. The best way to nurture and protect those properties will be to stay as active as I possibly can, both mentally and physically.

All the more reason now to get out and hike, bike, kayak, canoe, backpack, snorkel, rollerblade, beat the hubby at Scrabble, and ~shudder~ think about skydiving. Old age is going to have to look very hard to find me.

        Happy Trails, and may finding adventure never grow old!

Back to the Babble

Well, we've all survived a hospital stay, 115 degree heat index, a phone repair that took 7 days, and Ash Kitty's epic crash into the cat door that was locked shut. I think I might have just found my first gray hair. Oh no, wait, that's just sheetrock dust. Never mind.
After all that excitement, it's good to sit quietly, sip some cool carrot lemonade (sounds awful, tastes great; don't judge), watch Ash Kitty walk around shaking his head, and think of cooler times, just a few days past.
After rafting, the girls and I tried to pack an infinite number of things into a finite space. We drove to the Royal Gorge. I did not encourage my children to break the rules and climb on the rocks to look down. I did not, however, ahem, discourage my children's love of exploration...

Daughter #1 saw the Gorge from the bottom earlier in the day, as she was navigating the Class IV rapids. After that, everything else looks pretty tame.

Because we wanted the trip to be something for everyone, the next stop was for me, The Mom. The Queen Bee. The Life Giver. The one behind the wheel that said "we're stopping here."

Rocks. A fabulous rock shop. Who else do you know would drive 12 hours to look at rocks? Well, my niece Karen the Geologist would... but I think she gets paid to do that.
Did you hear the one about the hunter who filled his deer tags for the season?  Yeah, it was a peridot.
Know what you call a military man in the ocean? Aquamarine.

Rock humor. Only special people have it. Would you believe I actually stay awake at night thinking this stuff up? Somewhere, my niece is giggling, even if you aren't.

Gems, geodes, rocks, glass. After I got my mineral fix we went on to an activity chosen by The Whee.

Horseback riding up the mountain. Since Daughter #1's allergy to horses makes her have Linda Blair moments, just the Whee and I went. The Whee said this is my regular station in life- always ridin' someone's butt...

With a great deal of effort, I refrained from spooking her horse.

And last, and in the mind of some of our group, almost the least- Seven Falls. I remembered them as much bigger. D #1 said she'd been hosed. It was our final stop in the land of wonder.

And then we dropped an exhausted Whee with her Grandmother, Aunt, Uncle and a slew of cousins to visit for a couple of weeks, and D#1 and I headed home.

The drive home gave us some girl time to discuss life matters; important stuff like "why does the washer only eat socks from the good pairs?"
As an aside, let me mention here that if you are driving from Denver to OKC, stay on the interstate, far away from state highways. It will save you two hours and an expensive conversation the CHP. That's all I have to say about that.

 Happy Trails, and may your adventures be infinitely satisfying!

We interrupt this regularly written drivel

Sorry, folks, just when I think I have it all together, someone moves the... A bird in the hand is worth twelve bucks-

Eesh- I'm a little worn. I'm interrupting the quacking about Colorado because I've spent a few days at the hospital, but not for me. No panic, all is well. Or at least getting better.

My mom had surgery that had been scheduled for a while. It all went well. This is good.

She was doing much better than expected. This is good.

She had funny, kind, wonderful nurses. This is good.

Then she stopped doing so well. In fact, she got really, really, unwell. This is bad.

She had nurses who jumped all over the problem, and doctors that showed up to assist. This is good.

She's doing mu-u-u-u-ch better. This is good.

She has had the cutest male nurses in the world. This is very good.

She hates hospital food. This is bad.

It's still 105 degrees outside. It's like, 34 in her room. I saw penguins under her bed. This is good/bad/confusing.

She still has sweet, caring, knowledgeable nurses. This is good.

She will be out soon. This is very good.

And then our regularly scheduled babble will return. This is good/bad/filling up precious cyber real estate.